


Love is the remedy

by GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Harry and Ginny Discord's Birthday Challenge 2020, Harry takes care of Ginny, Illnesses, Sick Character, St Mungo's Hospital
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey/pseuds/GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey
Summary: "And now there she was, in the kitchen, trying to think of a way to go alone to the hospital in her state. The pain in the right side of her back was strong, changing from a deep throbbing to a sharp burning sensation. The Floo flared and she turned her body towards the noise, a hand still frantically massaging her back."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eleyezeeaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleyezeeaye/gifts).



> To Liza, because your happiness is so important to me. Thank you for everything.
> 
> Written for the Harry/Ginny discord Birthday Challenge 2020.

**Chapter 1.**

Bent over the family table and eyes squeezed shut, Ginny breathed deeply through her nose. The pain she felt in her back was unquestionably the most intense pain she had ever felt in her life; nothing had ever compared to that.

She raised her throbbing head a little, biting her bottom lip when the pain flared. One hand was still laid on the table to support her weight and the other was frantically massaging her right kidney through her t-shirt. Looking at the family clock with blurry eyes -she could see that every member of her family was out for the day -she realized that the pain at the bottom of her back was worse than an hour ago.

She unfortunately knew she didn't have any chance to get better without going to St Mungo's hospital. Not anymore. She could have kept denying it or continued believing that everything would be alright after a couple of hours, but there was no way she could endure that any longer. Clearly, her state wasn't going to improve.

She needed to see a doctor. And _soon_.

Ginny wasn't exactly sure of what she had, but she knew without any doubt that she'd never felt so awful in her life.

She'd woken up this morning with a burning fever, her sheets completely soaked, feeling so weak that she was barely able to get up from bed. Searching through her mind for any possible cause, she'd assumed that she'd catched Teddy's cold some days ago.

Poor little thing had been a bit sick and Harry, Ron, Hermione and herself had gone to Andromeda's house to help her with the baby for a couple of hours. Hermione had helped Mrs. Tonks brew some potions for Teddy while the others were trying their best to take care of "Mr. Terrible 2."

Trembling from the chill in the air- despite feeling feverish- she'd managed miraculously to take a shower to get rid of the sweat without collapsing in it.

Feeling a little better after the shower, she'd put on some comfortable clothes and pulled her hair into a ponytail, not even spending a minute on her appearance. The energy to do it wasn't there at all and walking had taken enough effort already. There was no use to feel pretty anyway since she would be totally alone for the whole day, knowing no living-being would step foot in the Burrow until tomorrow. Also, the simple idea of putting on jeans and feeling tight in them all day hadn't felt quite enjoyable at the time.

The day had been beautiful, warm and sunny, and they had all said they were going to spend the day outside, some taking extra time to find the perfect gift for Harry's birthday this week. Her parents were at Aunt Muriel's for the night, something about the old bat wanting to redecorate her living room and needing her father's arms.

She'd already known the day would be depressing, because she'd heard Ron telling Hermione through the Floo that Harry was taking someone out tonight but hadn't wanted to say who, to Ron's annoyance. Ginny was going to spend the day all alone and trying to keep her mind away from a certain irresistible boy with round glasses.

She'd tried -really really tried- between each pain potion to keep her mind away from what the girl Harry would probably date tonight could look like. So, while some random girl was extremely excited and already planning which dress and matching underwear she would wear tonight, Ginny'd planned to spend her night listening to the quidditch match on the wireless.

With a lump in her throat and misty eyes - which she'd blamed on the fact that she was really tired- she'd tried to think of something else than Harry and what color of underwear he would see tonight. Her mind didn't want to go there when It came to Harry's possible date, but since her mind was a traitor, she couldn't banish these thoughts about the woman with long dark hair and that perfectly white skin that always popped in her mind... the skin he was probably going to taste tonight.

Why was she hurting herself like that?

Oh, who knew!

It wasn't like she hadn't imagined that scenario and cried her eyes out on it— well hidden in her bed mind you— a thousand times for years.

But no. _Enough_.

With disdain towards herself, she'd wiped her tears with the palm of her hands and tried to think about something else. No more thoughts of a beautiful and clever girl with dark hair and white skin being kissed by Harry filling her mind. _No thank you_ , she was already feeling sick enough as it was.

She'd accepted years ago— though with so much difficulty— that she wasn't Harry's type. And obviously, she'd never be. A pity, really, because she was utterly and completely in love with the prat, to her own annoyance. In love with his braveness, his sense of humour, his arrogance, his nobility... and it broke her heart how many times this wonderful human-being had thought he wasn't worth it. That he wasn't worthy of love, care, tenderness.

The summer of her fourteenth birthday, he'd confessed to her around the campfire with an alarming detachment in his voice, that he wasn't sure if one day he would ever be able to open up to a girl, to be entirely comfortable intimately with someone. He was afraid there was no one that would be able to understand him, to understand why he was messed up, why it would take time for him to learn to be a good boyfriend, why he would need to share an absolute trust with that person. Worst of all, he was afraid he wouldn't find someone who could love him for who he really was, not just for an awful scar on his forehead.

Harry had then looked at the stars, like if he was asking them, a wish on the tip of his tongue, if there was someone like that for him somewhere.

She knew he'd had a hard year at school and Tom had just come to life again a couple of weeks ago, so trying to hide her concern, she'd just listened to him, drank in his every word, and only commented here and there when she knew he was waiting for a response. She'd tentatively squeezed his hand a couple of times, letting the simple gesture speak for her. Ginny felt in her blood, in every one of her cells, that he didn't necessarily need her to say anything, but just her being there was enough.

So she'd stayed, she'd listented, and she'd wished she could have removed all the pain in his eyes—beautiful haunted eyes that were telling her more than he probably wanted her to know. Too soon, they'd said good night and gone to their beds, letting the stars light their way, and wishing they could have lightened their hearts too.

That night, she hadn't been able to sleep, thinking ceaselessly about all the horrible things this boy had suffered; how he'd craved a comforting embrace since his childhood. She'd cried, wanting to show him just how she understood him, how she cared, how she would be okay with being his driving force. The wall around her heart— the one she had kept there for quite some time to be able to give up on him— had cracked a little that night, to her fright.

The next morning, she'd acted like nothing had happened, just like Harry did. He'd told her good morning and had joined Ron and Hermione in the backyard. _It was their thing, right?_ Sharing something deep and then burying it far far away until he forgot?

A couple of weeks later, she was dating Michael, something she'd needed to do before going crazy since Harry had eyes only for Cho Chang.

Learning that Harry had kissed Cho under the mistletoe (all the school knew they'd just kissed, thanks to Cho's giggling friends) just a couple of hours before her dad had been attacked crushed her insides with force. The worry compressing her lungs had made her breathing difficult and every time she'd share a glance with his terrified eyes, she saw them looking lovingly at Cho's lips and it felt like he was ripping her heart out and spitting on it.

Her reaction had surprised her greatly because she'd thought that now that she was dating Michael, that she was over him, at least a little. That his eyes wouldn't still be an open-book to her.

_What a lie_.

That night, curled on the couch in Grimmauld, she'd looked in those eyes, at that boy she was feeling so strongly for, and had known without a single doubt despite his attempts to be in control, that he was in great distress.

He'd just saved her dad from the monster that had been resurrected some months ago, the monster who had changed both their lives and his eyes were screaming to her to help him, that he still wanted to be loved.

In his head, everything was his fault.

Harry had probably wanted to be near Cho at that moment, how could he not? He probably hadn't wanted to be with her family, with _her_ , and Merlin, it had felt like a punch right to the gut. Ginny knew he'd fancied Cho for years; it was quite obvious to Ginny. After all, when you're fancying someone yourself, It's the kind of detail you couldn't miss. That kiss had been what she was waiting for to be able to close her heart to him completely. To protect herself.

After shedding a flow of tears on her pillow that night, she'd accepted that he'd found his _someone_ in Cho. He was happy now, right? Like she was supposed to be happy with Michael. Harry deserved all the happiness in the world. He deserved to feel loved, to _be_ loved, and she was just relieved in a painful way that someone was giving what he'd needed, finally.

When she'd been ready to go to hell with Harry to save Sirius at the Ministry and Harry had said she was too young, she'd put her foot down and had tried to be quite clear he wasn't going to ever think that of her. Still, it had been perfectly clear how he was still seeing her, as that little girl that once had a crush on him. So she'd worked harder to show to Harry she didn't need him, that she was perfectly fine without him, since he was apparently perfectly fine without her.

That's when she'd decided that there would be no more Tom in her nightmares, and no more Harry in her dreams.

It never worked and she'd once again experienced one about Harry that morning. An intense feeling of starvation, of wanting, of needing more of him than this insurmountable distance between them had engulfed her at the first sign of the sun in the sky, the second she'd opened her eyes. Every time she'd dreamt of him and woke again, it was like quitting a life she wished was hers and a man she felt she could never stop loving.

Today hadn't been different, leaving her abruptly in a state of pure ecstasy to a deep disappointment, knowing Harry would only keep her company in her dreams, only there to tease a future that would never be hers. And then she'd realized she wasn't just hot from the dream she just had, but because she was running a fever.

Sitting on the couch, she'd sipped at her cool pumpkin juice with trembling hands, savouring its sweet taste every time It touched the tip of her tongue. It was the only thing she'd accepted to put in her mouth.

Her muscles were aching, the pain concentrated on her neck and the bottom of her back, and feeling like a ton of hot bricks was crushing her shoulders. The pressure had increased during the day, making it difficult for Ginny to think straight, and all she could do was peering at the sky through heavy eyelids, admiring the sun disappearing behind the clouds.

She'd tried to eat soup around lunch but she'd vomited it violently some minutes later. Nothing had felt appetizing even if her stomach ached. She still didn't try to eat anything else, afraid she would vomit it again.

Any noise resonated in her brain like a drum, making her temples throbbing and her head hurting to the point of crying, so Ginny had had to turn off the wireless.

Even the book on the history of Quidditch she'd just bought for herself and that she'd read avidly in the last days, enjoying each page, had made her head spinned. After several minutes laying on the ragged couch, arm draped over her tired eyes, she'd felt defeat. She'd dug the nails of her other hand into a tissue to keep the room from spinning so fast, making her feel like she was on a boat in the middle of a storm. Ginny had finally been able to calm her body down and not vomit the little water she'd been able to keep in the day.

Then, she'd decided to try to sleep a little in her room, hoping her dizziness would fade away and that she would feel better when she would wake up.

Unfortunately, she never succeeded to sleep, turning in her bed every minute and pulling the sheets on and off her. Ginny couldn't bear the cold without her blanket but had felt like she would suffocate with it on her. It was undoubtedly caused by the fever that didn't seem to slow down that much, even with the potions the family kept in the loo.

She was desperate for relief.

She'd tried to lay on her back and on her side, both adding a pressure where It hurt. Eyes opened or closed, It was like if the room was spinning around her constantly.

When the night had fallen, she'd made her way to the family room with a loosen white blanket around her shoulders that her mum had made some years ago. She'd then taken another potion for the pain in her back that had strangely increased again.

She'd tried to write a little to Luna— who was traveling with her dad for some months— wishing with all her might that the day would pass faster and that she would feel much better tomorrow. Unfortunately, writing wasn't something that was possible either with the oppressive pain in her head and the tiredness that had made it difficult to keep her eyes opened.

Ginny had thought about eating again, seeing how the night had fallen and thinking It would certainly help her, but even the smallest thing made her feel worse. Hearing the clinking sound of her spoon on the porcelain of her bowl had made her cringe. She'd finally completely dismissed the idea of eating pretty fast when she'd smelled the stew her mother had kindly left for her. The scent had immediately thrown her off guard and she'd vomited again in the sink.

And now there she was, in the kitchen, trying to think of a way to go alone to the hospital in her state. The pain in the right side of her back was strong, changing from a deep throbbing to a sharp burning sensation.

She started to jump a little, trying to ease the pain but there was no use, it was worse.

The Floo flared and she turned her body towards the noise, a hand still frantically massaging her back.

Shifting a little to the side, she recognized immediately who owned that mussed black hair— who seemed to have just had a haircut— and her heart skipped a beat. Harry had accepted, after many pleas from her mother, to not knock on the door or call before arriving at the Burrow. It had taken him a bit of convincing, but he had finally did as he was told, to her mother and Ron's delight. She kept herself from sighing in relief too loudly when she noticed his presence, never imagining how hearing his voice tonight would have made her feel that safe.

Harry's presence had always calmed her like nobody else. She reckoned that the person who had saved your life, your _soul_ , from the most powerful wizard for decades and fought a basilisk with a sword in the most knightly way tended to do that. Even if returning to school in her second year had been a nightmare, the only thing calming her and keeping her sane had been to know that Harry was also in the castle, somewhere.

Cleaning the floo powder from his clothing with his wand, he then raised his head, looking around suspiciously with suspicious eyes.

"Hello?"

"Hey! Ron's not-" Ginny managed to say with a little voice from the kitchen.

Harry entered the kitchen with a shy smile, wand still in hand, and his eyes widened at the sign of her. His smile disappeared automatically the moment he looked into her eyes.

She knew she had dark circles under her eyes and that she was very pale, her freckles appearing darker on her skin than normally. Her last time in front of a mirror didn't make her want to look in it again anytime soon. Her hair was probably a mess too, considering she hadn't redone her ponytail since getting out of bed from her nap, locks of hair falling all around her face.

She couldn't care less at the moment, though.

Harry put his wand in his pocket and made a step towards her so quickly, her head spun even more.

"Ginny! What's happening?" he asked with urgency, and Ginny could have sworn he seemed panicked. He reached for her arm, his hand still cold from outside, soothing her burning skin under his fingers. He looked intently into her eyes, waiting for a response.

Ginny closed her eyes, trying to find energy to talk without stuttering too much before opening them again. Her breath was shallow and not satisfying at all. She thought for a second how not breathing could be appeasing, like a relief, since every breath she took was like fire erupting on her sides.

"I'm- ah- fine. What are -hum- you doing here?" she asked him, moving around the table to appease the pain flaring in her body.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and blinked twice, observing her. Ginny bit her lip, knowing firmly that he hadn't fallen for her lie. Not Harry Potter. She tried to smile at him and repeated her question, trying to hide the tremor in her voice and waiting for his response, but not without hissing in pain at the last word.

"Could have fooled me," he said, crossing his arms. His eyes were guarded and he lifted his chin, his voice taking an authoritarian tone she hated. "What's happen-"

Harry's question was cut when she cried out, holding her side. He moved towards her, frowning menacingly.

"Ok, that's enough. You're not fine at all. Don't take me for an idiot."

Agape, she blinked at him. "I'm not!" Ginny finally exclaimed, offended by the fact he was believing she could even think this of him. "And coming from Mister I'm-fine-even-if-the-world-is-ending, it's fucking rich."

Harry's reply came instantly. "Right, give me a second while I dry my eyes and then tell me the fucking truth."

"Why would I?" she asked with irritation, her state not giving her the chance to think clearly and making her want to snap at him. A flash of the made-up brunette she was sure he had a date with blinded her with unwarranted jealousy. Harry clenched his jaw.

"You don't have to, I suppose, but would be nice of you. Never imagined a second I'd meet someone more stubborn than Hermione."

"Have you not," she paused taking a deep breath, "looked at yourself in a mirror recently?" she muttered through clenched teeth and held his gaze. Her legs shook from the pain she was experiencing, and fought to not show it to him. Harry lifted an eyebrow at her, unperturbed, and she closed her eyes in defeat, letting a moan escape her dry lips.

It wasn't her intention to make him feel like an idiot. Not at all. Her goal wasn't even exactly to lie to him— because Ginny hated lying— she just wished he could return to Grimmauld Place and let her go to the hospital quickly. Even if honestly, his presence warmed her heart more than anyone else could ever do. However, even if she loved having him here with her, every minute he stayed there talking to her was a minute she wasn't waiting for her turn in the waiting room at St Mungo's. And dying from pain here, in her parents' kitchen, wasn't exactly her life plan.

An odd part of her— one she couldn't quite understand but that she still couldn't ignore— didn't want him to know she was in pain or even worse, that she needed _him_ , and her need was fighting her stubbornness, her independence, and somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Tom's voice reminding her she was weak.

With his tendency of seeing her like Ron's little sister and how she was fighting that idea he had of her, she didn't want to make him feel like he needed to save her _again_ , a cold damp floor and gray stone walls flashing behind her eyes. Harry had saved enough people in his life, she could give him a break.

And still, her heart couldn't stop beating furiously knowing that he seemed worried for her, that he wasn't running away from her, letting her alone to mend herself, her body and her broken heart.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't want to make you feel like an idiot. You're not. Of course not. It's just-Oh Merlin!" she moaned in agony, feeling a treacherous tear sliding on her dry cheek betraying her hard facade. Harry, jaw set, put a hand on her shoulder as if he was trying to give her strength the best he knew how to.

"I-I think I need-St Mungo's," Ginny succeeded to say and Harry's eyes widened. Vulnerable and weak, she humidified the corners of her mouth and tasted the salty taste of the tears that had slipped from her eyes. "I woke up -ah- feeling awful and It just-just increased. And-And I don't know what else to do now, It's been hours and-."

"Potions-"

"Didn't work. I tried," Ginny replied, concentrated on her breathing, and Harry nodded, a determination in his eyes. She then bit her chapped lips when a wave of pain slapped her again.

"Brillant." Harry passed a hand in his hair and took a deep breath, like he was coming to a certain conclusion. Ginny observed how his hands were trembling and It didn't serve to reassure her. Harry was someone who always managed to keep his calm in difficult situations and that was why Ginny had no doubt he'd be an incredible Auror. However, looking at him now, there was nothing calm in his demeanor.

"Ok well, let's go," he said, determined. He took Ginny's small hand in his rough one, and she swallowed, then he started leading her gently toward the fireplace, careful to not hurt her in the process.

" What-" Ginny began.

"What what?" he asked her with annoyance, like she didn't understand how the time was precious.

"I didn't think you'll come with-with me," she managed to say between gritted teeth. The pain was still increasing. "I mean, didn't you have a da-," she began but stopped herself when she realized she shouldn't know that information about his life and the last thing she would want was for him to feel like she spied on him. "I mean, you don't ha-have to. I'll be okay. I can walk."

Harry narrowed her eyes at her in question, gazing into hers and then releasing her hand. Ginny had never seen his eyes so sad since a while and her chest tightened by the distance he'd suddenly put between them.

"Would you prefer-I mean, do you want me to ask someone else? I could ask your parents or Ron? Or I could ask -er- I don't know. Maybe Dean?" he said, his voice soft and low, and his eyes became cloudy, like a veil appeared before them.

Ginny wasn't sure if she had to reassure him that she didn't need anyone else than him or if she had to feel even more sick because he was ready to fetch Dean for her. _Why Dean?_

She shook her head. "Not my parents or-or any of my brothers. I don't want to mess with their plans for the -ah- night," she hissed and Harry's hands moved to hers, but to her disappointment, he stopped himself before touching her.

"So, Dean?" Harry asked, putting his hands in his pockets and looking more tired and pale than ever. "Or, is there another guy you'll want me to call?"

"Er. No," Ginny replied, somewhat irritated that he'd suggest such a thing.

"Well then. I guess you're stuck with me," he added humorlessly.

"Harry-"

Frowning, he took her hand and she felt it shook in hers. "We're going to St-Mungo's. Come on," Harry said with authority, letting no place to argue.

"Harry. Harry! -ah!- Stop. Please," Ginny begged him when she felt her temples burning, a buzz ringing in her ears making her feel like she was about to lose her foot. Black engulfed her for only an instant, and her heart started beating so fast from the fear that she thought it could escape her chest. She'd never felt so relieved to see the low and warm light of the candles in her mother's kitchen.

"What? Where does it hurt? What-" he asked in alarm, putting both of his hands on her shoulder and looking at her from head to toes.

She stomped the floor with her right foot in agitation, both hands putting pressure on her forehead to appease the pain and narrowed her eyes, her lips in a thin line. Harry seemed to understand that he was too fast for her state and she noticed that he nodded to himself, like he was coming to the conclusion he needed to do something, something he needed to gather courage for.

" Can I-er-put my hand here to help you?" he said, his cheeks flushed as he gestured to her hip with his other hand.

She rolled her eyes at him and then smiled despite her need to whimper. Harry took the hint and gave her a shy smile, putting his arm around her and supporting her weight with a tenderness that made her heart melt.

"Wait," Ginny said, and Harry stopped again, clearly worried he'd hurt her. " I-I need my wand, and may-ah- maybe a bag. You know, for the wait and all."

"Right," he said, losing his arm around her. Instantly, she missed the contact on her skin. "Where's your wand?" he asked her in a soft voice but with a subtle note of reprimand she didn't miss. Harry hated when someone didn't have their wand with them. And Ginny completely understood; the war had been traumatizing and terrifying for everyone and even more Harry. Normally she always had her wand with her, but with her rough day and the intense pain, she forgot. Her brain was only focusing on surviving, fighting the exhaustion with all Its might.

Seeing his scowl, she shook her head sheepishly and shrugged, putting her energy on the new wave of pain she was feeling.

Talking had to wait.

"Accio Gin's wand," Harry said while she bit her bottom lip, as if she could transfer the pain to somewhere else for even a moment. Catching her wand in his hand, he put it in his pocket like it was such a precious object, and Ginny tried to control the feeling bubbling into her chest. She watched him grabbing her key and her wallet that were on the small table in the entrance, like he didn't even have to search for them, he knew where she had the habit to put them. Harry then frowned, like she knew he used to do when he was thinking and a second later, he was bolting up the stairs. She noticed he returned with Ron's knapsack in his hands and it took a couple of seconds for her to realize Harry was asking her what she wanted to bring at the hospital. Swallowing, she contented herself with only pointing him a book near the fireplace, and Harry hastened to take it and to fill the little bag with her things.

Harry turned to her and his eyes went wide when she started to moan and curl up in a ball, her head between her forearms. Kneeling in front of her, he quickly took her in his arms, cradling her head with one hand, like he wanted to absorb the pain for her. His gesture could have surprised her since Harry wasn't the type to hug, to touch, and she'd noticed how he dreaded to be physically close to someone, but she didn't dwell on it. She needed his closeness, his sweet scent that had always made her senses tingle, to feel the muscles of his arms around her waist, like they had been made to protect her.

Ginny put her head on his chest, letting herself be rocked by the frantic sound of his beating heart. She dug her nails into his skin without realizing it, and a little moan erupted from his mouth. He put his head in the crook of her neck, mumbling to her to breathe to calm her, his voice grounding her like nothing else. The pain was so intense that she nearly lost consciousness. Closing her eyes to focus on his breathing, she relished the absolute tenderness of his gestures and wished silently he would once take her in his arms when she'd be able to enjoy it comfortably.

Breathing was laborious with every wave of pain, and she was feeling like her back was burning, or like if there were hundred needles piercing her skin. Harry caught on immediately that there was another wave and caressed her hair gently, his cheek on her head. His other hand went over hers and she let him the place. He started massaging the bottom of her back with more pressure she was able to do herself, relieving her a little from her misery.

Ginny felt a lump formed in her throat with each "breathe, I'm here" he was murmuring to her in her ear, his hot lips brushing against it. She blinked away her tired tears and concentrated on the beat of his heart, deciding at that instant that it was now the most beautiful melody in the world. More tears fell from her eyes and Ginny didn't know if It was because of the pain or the fact she had once thought that heart had stopped beating forever.

Her breath was short and she hissed in pain before releasing him after a moment. She felt bad for the vulnerable moment she'd just let him see and felt the need to apologize, wishing with all her heart he didn't feel pressured to be there for her.

"I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm o-okay," she murmured, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Harry looked down at her and gently caressed her cheek, making her breath catch in her throat. "Don't be sorry," he murmured, his eyes gazing into hers. She began massaging her forehead, feeling like the pain she was experiencing was everywhere.

"Just breathe, Gin. Breathe," Harry said, resuming his massage on the bottom of her back and she felt her heart melt with each tender pressure he was doing. He couldn't even begin to imagine just how it helped her, and it was like he knew exactly how much pressure to apply, with such an accuracy that it scared her to think he had the ability to read her mind so perfectly.

Taking a deep breath himself after a moment, Harry stepped back a little and looked into her eyes. "The sooner we're there, the sooner you'll feel better," he murmured to her like they were sharing something intimate, something nobody had to witness, even if they were alone. "Are you okay enough to use the Floo or should we apparate? What's the best you think?"

A new wave of pain, burning her insides, began with a vengeance. She didn't feel like talking or taking a decision at all and that he'd just put it on her shoulders annoyed her ridiculously. "I don't fucking care, Harry," Ginny snapped at him and she instantly regretted it. Looking up at him, she saw Harry's panicked eyes looking at her, clearly wondering what the hell had just happened, what wrong he'd said, and she could have seen the wheels in his brain working if It would have been possible.

"Both seem like a-a bad idea, but I'll be fine with -Ah! Damn it!-," she hissed and Ginny observed that Harry's breath was irregular. Taking a deep breath to ease the pain, she found enough strength to continue through clenched teeth. "Apparating would- would be okay I guess. I'd go by flying though, but-"

"I thought about it," he said with seriousness and Ginny couldn't help the smile at the corner of her lips. Of course he did. "But no, we won't."

She pouted a little and Harry just smiled at her, grabbing her shoes. He helped her into them, his hands around her socked-foot making it seem so small, and her breath caught in her throat when she noticed his eyes looking at her, like they were penetrating her soul. For a moment, she felt her complexes abandoning her, making place for a vulnerability she never let herself expose to anyone since Tom. Looking into his eyes, It was like all the mistakes she'd ever done were forgiven, like there was an unspoken promise engraved into them that he'd always find a way to be there for her. Biting her lip, she hoped he was unable to hear the hectic beat of her heart and she felt the need to break their gaze before she'd do something stupid. Harry blinked a couple of times, like he'd just been dazzled by the sun, and then swallowed. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the bag and then put his arms around her waist to help her get up. "I'll apparate us there, are you okay with it?" he asked and she just squeezed her eyes, nodding, hoping to be there quickly when she felt the burning in her neck beginning.

"Oh wait!" she said and took her wand from Harry's pocket. "Accio, Ron's hat."

Ginny heard the unmistakable sound of the hat zooming through the house and caught it on its way. Harry looked at her through his long eyelashes, a question forming on his lips and she put the black hat on his head, being gentle to not hit his glasses. Harry's mouth opened and then closed. She looked at him with blazing eyes, hoping he wasn't upset by the fact she'd hide his scar. There was no way she'd be able to control herself and not hex someone if the words of Harry Potter at the hospital were running around. Harry didn't need to feel uncomfortable in a public place because of her, because he was accompanying her. A smile grazed his lips to her relief, and then he nodded, letting her know they were going to apparate. Hands on his collar and holding him closely to her, she felt the familiar swoop of apparition at her navel.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dusk.
> 
> You're the best. I love you.
> 
> To Focus: you make my quotidien better.

**Chapter 2.**

They appeared near St-Mungos' doors, welcomed by a heavy cold rain, one that looked like ropes.

Cars were honking on the busy boulevard next to the enchanted hospital and the muggle street lamps were just bright enough in the night storm to show them the way towards the magical doors.

Without even looking at Ginny, Harry removed his robes and put them around her shoulders, making sure she was well-covered, something that turned out easier than what he was anticipating. His robes were grazing the ground at Ginny's feet, ones so big for her that she could have drowned in them. Her hair was sticking on her cheeks because of the cold rain, and her eyelashes seemed fuller. She looked at him with tired eyes, looking so small and vulnerable; a flash of bright brown eyes, staring at him behind a door years ago, invaded his mind.

She opened her chapped lips, for what Harry supposed was to argue to take his robes back; he gave her a look through his foggy glasses, making Ginny narrow her eyes. He guessed that she decided there was no point in arguing right now — to his surprise, really, knowing her temper — and she thought it better to keep her energy.

For a welcomed moment, the sound of the rain hitting the road replaced the irritating buzzing in his ears. Normally, he was fairly good at keeping a cool head. He knew that was why he was appreciated in the Auror department, but now that Ginny needed him to be in control, he found it more difficult than ever to keep himself collected. Somehow, he was unable to control the rush of adrenaline flooding his body every time he looked at her. She was pale, giving the illusion the freckles decorating her beautiful face were darker. Freckles, he realized, that were more abundant than the last time he'd seen her, and he suspected she spent some time outside under the sun this week.

Her breath was shallow and he could see her shaking at his side from cold, but also, he assumed, from pain.

They crossed the street as fast as they could, Harry making sure Ginny was following just behind him. Once they had reached the pavement, she practically tripped over her own feet, and Harry blessed his seeker reflexes for catching her just in time. She batted his hands away from her with strong annoyance, crossed her arms around herself, and then whimpered, her mouth contorting under intense pain. Her eyes were shut, and Harry worried for a second he'd have to levitate her to the emergency room.

Not knowing what to do exactly, he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to convey that he was there, that she wasn't alone in the rain at the corner of a busy street in London. Feeling alone when you were sick was terrifying, he'd know. The silence between them was heavy, and he dug into his brain to find something, anything really, that he could say. He cursed himself, though, because she needed medical support, and quick—not empty words or frivolous sentences.

He exhaled deeply to calm his racing heart, his guts screaming that they needed to move, and faster. The rain seemed to have calmed a little; droplets of water fell from the top of his nose as a street lamp mirrored in a puddle at Ginny's feet. Muggles were strolling the streets with their umbrellas, and none noticed the Knight Bus driving at breakneck speed and stopping at their corner to let various people wearing flamboyant robes get off. The summer night air was heavy in humidity, while his heart was heavy with worry.

After what seemed like hours, Ginny uncrossed her arms from her stomach and turned to look at him, her eyes unfocused.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, his voice filled with concern.

Ginny nodded, the movements of her head barely perceivable. He didn't dwell on what she'd think of him, or if he'd look like a fool to initiate a certain closeness as he put his arm under her arms, her body firmly pressed against his.

"C'mon."

He knew she was stubborn and would never dream of showing someone she was unable to do something alone, but she hadn't insisted for long that she was fine. She probably realized Harry wouldn't believe one word because her pain seemed unbearable. Without waiting too long, she leaned her head against his chest, like it felt too heavy on her shoulders, and let him guide her to the wizarding hospital doors just in front of them.

Harry could see the bright lights of the corridors through the transparent doors of the big building, giving a good idea of the busy atmosphere into it. Wizards and witches passed beside them on their way to the hospital, their boots splashing on the wet pavement. Some of them gave Ginny pitying looks, but Harry didn't give them any attention and kept moving.

The doors opened automatically in front of Harry's eyes, and a scent of sanitizer and mix of potions attacked his senses. A house-elf working at the hospital and giving some directions to a witch caught his eye. Harry knew where to go and didn't need any indication from him, so keeping Ginny steady, they turned left to reach the emergency room.

Some house-elves were cleaning the floor in the corridor, their mops floating in mid-air as they carried buckets filled with soapy water. A bit further, a mediwitch, whistling with her wand in hand, was levitating the hospital bed of a man to another room.

"Still okay?" he murmured into Ginny's ear, and she nodded. Harry noticed that her eyes were filled with determination, but more importantly, trust. She was trusting him.

Reaching the emergency room, they quickly noticed it was crammed with people, and Harry felt like every eye in the room turned towards them to see who'd just arrived. He squeezed Ginny's hand, more to put himself at ease than her, and noticed a guard dressed in gray in the corner of the room, where people got a number for the triage. He saw a wizard who had arrived a second before them heading towards the employee and Harry brought Ginny to wait behind the man. She hissed at his side, her hand creasing his shirt, and he frowned, wishing the guy would just stop chatting with the bloody guard.

With a laugh, the wizard took his ticket and finally left to find a seat in the room. Harry gently broke away from Ginny and advanced towards the guard. Nodding at him, he took his wand out and summoned their ticket with their number for when Ginny would be called.

He turned on his heels to find Ginny with her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I-you're the next number. It's gonna be fast," he said, feeling powerless.

She nodded at him and angrily brushed away the tears from her eyes with the palm of her hands.

"Would you want to find a-"

"Number 762!"

The mediwitch's voice calling Ginny's number on the wireless made him jump.

"It's us," he told Ginny, and he noticed her shoulders slacking.

Harry carefully helped Ginny move to one of the chairs in front of the desk in the cramped room and gave her a small smile.

"I'll just be outside," he murmured to her, turning on his heels.

"Stay!" Ginny said, and he looked at her over his shoulder, the relief of not leaving her surging in his stomach. "I mean, please. Stay."

It felt funny, strange even, to be wanted somewhere, that she cared that he stayed at her side, and a jolt of warmth and excitement passed through his body. He spent so many years being ignored by his own family that he was still having difficulties in accepting —in really grasping —the concept of being wanted. And he knew it would never take much to bring him back to these grim and indocile whirlwinds of illusions that nobody ever really liked him, unless they had a purpose.

"Of course."

She gave him a radiant smile and he sat next to her, their knees touching. A sick feeling erupted in his guts from hearing all the beeping sounds of the magical instruments floating around them and he realized he needed her presence more than she probably did.

The mediwitch behind the desk, an older woman who seemed to have seen a lot, didn't seem really panicked at Ginny's sight. She glanced at her patient, taking her time to organize her stacks of parchments. Harry looked at Ginny and they both let out an exasperated breath at the same time, which made Harry quirk up his lips in a half-smile.

The minutes seemed to stretch out and the silence in the room was unbearable. His blood was pulsating in his veins from stress, making his head spin a little. Never he'd felt so out of control in a situation. To his absolute surprise, Ginny gently put her right hand on his knee, never leaving the mediwitch's eyes, and he realized it was bouncing.

"Your first and last names?" the mediwitch finally asked Ginny, her feather in hand to fill her new parchment.

"Ginevra Weasley."

"Date of birth?"

"August, hum. August 11th, 1981," Ginny managed to say through clenched teeth.

"Any allergies?"

Ginny shook her head, and Harry knew she was feeling a new wave coming.

"Are you taking any potions daily?"

"No," she hissed.

"Anyone cast a spell on you today?"

Ginny answered with the negative again.

"Mmhmm. Just let me take your blood pressure," the mediwitch said, getting up. "Okay, there, don't move, please, it won't be long. Take a deep breath."

Moving her wand to Ginny's left arm, she murmured a spell that caused it to squeeze automatically. She looked at Ginny with a concerned expression that didn't bode well for Harry, shattering the semblance of control he was trying to keep. His knees started bouncing again.

"Poor dear. You really don't seem well," the mediwitch told her, glancing at her watch to count. "Have you vomited today?"

Ginny nodded, her glassy eyes looking at her arm.

"Often?"

"Maybe, I don't know, four times? I-I don't remember exactly," Ginny responded, her breath coming short.

The mediwitch nodded. "It's okay, dear. I just wanted to know if you've been sick. Have you vomited blood?" she asked, making Harry's heart jump in his throat.

"No, no."

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and probably made a sound, seeing how the mediwitch glanced at him momentarily.

Ginny whimpered at that moment, changing Harry's focus. His attention turned to her in a second and he noticed that she was seeking his hand with her eyes closed. Taking it into hers, Ginny squeezed his fingers painfully, but he let her use him. He just wanted to help her, and there wasn't much more he could do, which made him go insane. Harry realized just how horrifically he was unable to think straight when she needed him, when this normally fierce and smiling girl was suffering.

"Okay," the mediwitch said, waving her wand at Ginny's arm and gold numbers appeared in the air. She began to write all of these on her parchment, humming to herself and making sweet nothings to calm Harry's nerves. She then put her wand on Ginny's forehead, and Harry remembered Mrs. Pomfrey did that to take his temperature at Hogwarts. There was no way Ginny didn't have a fever; she was burning.

"Mmm. Can you describe where it hurts?" she asked Ginny.

Ginny turned her head to Harry, looking so tired and sick, like a deep desperation had invaded her. Harry wanted to scream at the mediwitch to do something to help her and fast, but knew it wouldn't change anything, and he'd just look like a prat. Ginny was looking at him like she was begging him to explain it for her, and Harry understood.

He began to describe what Ginny had said to him at the Burrow, the pain, where she seemed to hurt, since when she was feeling like that and Ginny nodded through it all.

The mediwitch rummaged in her cabinet and gave Ginny a stronger pain potion and one for her fever, sending them back to the emergency room with a "good luck, dears".

* * *

They found two vacant seats at the end of the last row of uncomfortable plastic chairs and sat on them, taking great care to not bother anyone around.

Harry took out his wand and cleaned the floor beneath his chair, putting Ron's rucksack under it, and then cast a drying spell on both of them. Ginny thanked him, and replaced a strand of now dried hair behind her ear. He made sure his cap was well-adjusted on his head to hide his scar, and then scanned the room, examining every occupant.

He noticed Ginny playing with her hands and frowned in question when he caught her eyes.

She moistened her lips before answering him. "I'm feeling a bit better now that I drank their potion," Ginny began and he smiled, feeling the ice in his stomach melt a little. "You already did so much, you can go. I'll be fine."

There was a beat. "Pardon me?"

"You're working tomorrow, and you had better things to do tonight," Ginny said, and Harry noticed her detached tone, but really, he didn't quite catch the reason.

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her with an air of finality.

She looked at him, annoyance evident in her eyes. "Seriously, thank you, really, thank you. But I don't want you to spoil your night because of me. I'll be fine," she told him with a fake smile.

He looked at her for a second, wondering if he should push or just quit with his heart under his sleeve because she ultimately didn't want him there. Maybe he'd read that all wrong. He'd been a fool to expect her to be okay with him staying at her side.

"Did I do something wrong?" he finally decided to ask with a small voice, feeling exactly like the small child in his cupboard, asking Aunt Petunia why she was angry at him. He didn't really want to hear the answer.

Ginny turned her head, and observed him, her eyebrows in a concerned frown.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Harry," she assured, her soft voice soothing his worries. She didn't take her eyes off of him, and he felt like she was trying to read him, like she wanted to uncover some painful truths about him from their dust.

He cleared his throat, needing to break the silence following her words. "Erm, right. Do you want something to eat? A coffee?"

Swallowing, she shook her head and Harry nodded, looking away from her. "I'll come back in a minute," he told her and got up from his chair, not knowing Ginny's eyes followed him until he was out of her sight .

On his way to the cafeteria, he recalled about how he'd thought —or anyway _hoped_ — his night would have included something fancier to eat than a hospital snack.

He paid for two chocolate muffins, a coffee, and a pumpkin juice, and returned to Ginny, his insides churning when he saw how small and pale she looked on her chair. Despite everything, though, she was gorgeous. There was something about her that had always mesmerized Harry, a certain attractiveness emerging from her that made every head turn.

Ginny lifted her eyes to him and smiled when he retook his chair. "I brought you a muffin and a pumpkin juice, if you're hungry later," he said, and somehow, he found it harder to look at her. Ginny thanked him and Harry cautiously put them into Ron's rucksack, responding to her complaints and telling her that there was no way she'd repay him. Leaning his forearms on his thighs, he restarted his waiting, his coffee warming his hands.

"I-I might be contagious, we don't know. I wouldn't want you to-"

"If you want me to leave, I will," he said, cutting her, working hard to hide his crestfallen face.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head, tendrils of hair falling from her loose ponytail. Her lips moved, like she couldn't quite say the words she wanted to say, so Harry waited patiently. "I just don't want you to think I'm weak," she admitted, so softly he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

He blinked at her, somehow speechless at her admission. "You're not weak, I never thought that."

Ginny swallowed, and then looked around her, mindful of the people able to eavesdrop. "Right. I just don't want you to begin," she told him, and her tone didn't leave any place for interpretation; she wanted to make her point clear, hence the fierce gaze she granted him. "Just don't forget I'll be there for you if you ever need me."

Harry frowned, ready to counter-attack with a reply like there was no way they'd start counting this, that saving her from the Chamber didn't mean she owned one to him, because he wasn't such a fool that he wouldn't notice it was all about that. He couldn't quite fathom how she could have such thoughts about her, but again, Tom had been so vile with his words, playing with her mind with subtle manipulation and lies, that he shouldn't be too surprised. She'd been, to his absolute sadness, flayed by life just like him **.** It simply felt so unimaginable that the strongest girl he knew believed he thought she was weak.

He wanted to tell Ginny that from there on, he wouldn't want to hear her think it'd been her fault. A weird compulsion to shower her with compliments like he'd never done before gripped him with force, but the fire burning in her eyes made him stop… a fire that reminded him of the many times she'd been angry at him. Angry because she wanted to help him, to be _there_ , but he didn't want to let her be.

Ginny had been there plenty of times through the years, fighting at his side more often than not, and confronting him when he was being an idiot. It wasn't fair that she was so ashamed of herself because of the diary. It hadn't been her fault after all.

He repositioned himself on his chair, not actually sure how he could sensibly graze this subject at the hospital. In truth, it wasn't precisely the right moment, thus, he decided to approach it another time, when she'd be more receptive, maybe.

He sighed, changing tactic. "Even if you're contagious, it's already too late, so there's no reason for me to leave," Harry told her, shrugging.

"No reason?" she asked him, incredulous .

"No reason at all. Nobody's waiting for me," he added and Ginny cocked her head, blinking at him. "-and don't start with my job. I reckon they owe me a couple of days off. I'd rather spend the night with you. I mean, here, spend the night here," he finished, feeling his cheeks burn.

Ginny was still frowning, like what he'd just said made no sense, and at that moment, they heard a baby boy crying as his mother tried her best to calm him.

They both looked at the poor baby, exhausted from the waiting; Harry saw Ginny smiling in sympathy at the helpless mother, rocking her baby in her arms.

"The wait is terrible tonight," a witch with long burgundy robes sitting in front of them told Harry and Ginny, shaking her head. The book she was reading was now closed on her lap. "They've been here for a couple of hours, and the poor love lost a finger from what I understood. His cousin hexed him. A story of a wand left on the table, I suppose," she added, and then resumed her reading.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, and then at the mother feeding her baby. "I hope they'll be called soon, poor little love," murmured Ginny, concerned.

"Yeah," Harry said, still looking at the mother and frowning. Rummaging into Ron's rucksack, he brought out his wrapped chocolate muffin and got up. Ginny's eyes illuminated when he handed her his coffee and she realized what he was about to do. She nodded at him, giving him the confidence it was a good idea.

Walking to the mother, he caught her eyes and smiled at her. Careful to not wake the baby, he handed the muffin to her, trying to convey with his eyes how he was sorry for the situation and how he just wanted to help. He imagined she was probably hungry if she'd been there for a while, and she was alone with the baby; it wasn't like she could easily leave the waiting area.

The mother's eyes bulged and she smiled at Harry, taking the muffin with her left hand. She mouthed him a "thank you" and he smiled, returning to Ginny. If Ginny had been in the woman's place, alone with an ill baby, he'd want to be sure someone would have brought her some food.

On his way back to his chair, he saw Ginny beaming at him. A warm feeling bubbled up in his chest and he smiled back at her, because if something was contagious about her tonight, it was her smile.

* * *

The room was more and more crowded, and there were no free seats anymore. Time passed slowly, and they entertained themselves by counting the minutes between each name being called on the speaker. There was the news on the wireless to keep them company, the radio reporter announcing a big sale at Quality Quidditch Supplies or at how much the exchange rate was at Gringotts.

Ginny insisted many times that they share her muffin, even threatening that if Harry didn't accept, she would tell her brother about the time at the Burrow that she saw Harry running away from the chicken in fright because they wouldn't stop aggressively picking his shoes. He reminded her he was twelve at the time and she grinned, saying she could forget to mention this little detail. Still, he humoured her, grinning too, and agreed to share her muffin (knowing he'd go buy another one for her later if needed), to which she hooted low in victory. They casually started telling each other some quidditch stories, joking about cringey and funny situations that happened lately at the Burrow or how Molly and Arthur seemed a bit better in the last few weeks.

Ginny told him she wanted to travel soon without her quidditch team, because she'd like to take her time to visit everything. Harry tried to calm his nerves when she said how it could be pleasant he'd come with her, and he told her a bit too quickly how he'd love that. They talked about everything and everyone. Harry savored the easiness between them, and her ability to make him forget who he really was, because with her, he felt he was just Harry. The words flooded as easy as with Ron, and really, he was just so fond of her gleaming laughing eyes.

After a couple of hours, Ginny made a face and hissed when she removed his robes, and he started to fully worry again, convinced his worries were valid. She looked so tired, and he couldn't really blame her when he looked at his watch and saw how late it already was.

The mother and her baby had left to see the doctor some moments ago, to both their relief, really. The waiting area was so crammed with people that the guard had to magically turn up the volume of his voice to ask everyone to remove their robes or bags from the seat next to them to be able to offer a place for everybody waiting to see a doctor.

An old witch, wearing a hooked green velvet witchy hat and sparkling robes with pumpkins on it, settled down on the wall next to Harry. She'd just exited the triage and, scanning the room, Harry realized there was no seat for her anymore. It took only a second for him to get up, but not before sending a reproachful look to Ginny, who seemed to have had the same idea as him. She narrowed her eyes, mouthing "I can do it!", but he decided it was best to ignore her. He'd rather do it than her.

"Excuse me, ma'am, you can have my seat," he approached the witch.

The old woman observed him, and he wondered for a second if she recognized who he really was, if the cap was not enough, but then she shook her head, her wrinkled lips in a line. "Oh, nonsense! I'm perfectly fine where I am. The wall is quite comfortable for an old witch like me," she responded, supported by her old wooden cane.

"No, no, I insist. It's my pleasure," he said, unshaken.

The old witch considered him a second and then lifted her head, making her hat pressed against the white wall. "Are you sure, young man? Because I must say my old boots could use a whole new Cushioning charm nowadays."

"Absolutely," Harry assured.

"Oh well, I might accept your offer, then. Thank you my dear. That's quite gentlemanly of you," she said, winking at Ginny on her way to the chair, and Harry's face burned in flames when Ginny winked back.

Consequently, he stayed next to Ginny, standing a bit awkwardly between her thighs, his hands in his pockets. The old witch cast a charm to make her knitting needles magically move in the air in front of her, and Harry focused on the portrait of Ancient Greece above Ginny's head, knowing with certainty that if he'd look into her eyes, he'd lose himself in them.

"You might want to sit, young man," the witch said, surprising both of them. She'd started reading a book about herbology, from what Harry could decipher, and seemed absolutely engrossed into it. Ginny looked at Harry, her eyes asking him what was wrong with the woman.

He cleared his throat, aware he couldn't reply with sarcasm, which demanded more effort than he'd have thought. "I'm quite comfortable myself, ma'am."

"I'm sure a young man like yourself is always quite comfortable between the thighs of an elegant lady," she replied and Ginny's eyes widened while Harry just wished the ground would swallow him whole. "I just thought, quite frankly, that you'd have benefited from the lack of seats to sit on his laps, young lady. He's reasonably exquisite, if I say so for myself."

Ginny's face was as red as a beetroot, and Harry was convinced his wasn't better because his ears were burning from embarrassment.

After replacing a strand of hair behind her ear, Ginny spoke first, despite the discomfort between them. Harry didn't know how, really, but Ginny had a mind blowing ability to change the ambiance. Something he knew he was utterly and entirely rubbish at. On the contrary, he always seemed to have a knack for making it worse.

She comically cleared her throat. "I'm not opposed to sitting on the laps of the dazzling man, ma'am, but the decision here is not only mine to take."

He gaped at her like a goldfish, needing time to let her words sneak in. But then flayed of life just like him — and he put it on the fact he was such an impulsive prat— the words escaped his lips. "Er, the dazzling man is not opposed either," he affirmed, and felt his blood rushing in his body with his excitement, prickling the tips of his fingers. Or maybe he was dangerously losing the control of his magic.

Eyes tickling, the woman nodded, satisfied. "Very well. I have to admit I'm bewildered it took you so long," the old witch confessed, removing her hat from her head and showing a delicate gray bun of hair on top of it. Brushing away some invisible textiles from it, she then replaced the green velvet hat, unbothered by the awkwardness she created some moments ago.

Harry and Ginny were still looking in each other's eyes, and he hadn't dared to blink, or breathe, really. The atmosphere was charged with electricity, and neither moved for what felt like days.

To his relief, Ginny moved first and got up from the plastic chair, her eyes never leaving his. He backed away a little, just enough to give her some space to move. He knew without the shadow of a doubt that never he'd have proposed this to her, especially not in the crowded waiting room of a hospital, of all places. Yet, he wasn't going to let that chance pass, and the rest of the world could bloody well fuck off for once. Especially since half the room had the idea of sharing a chair to save space and be comfortable. Thus, he tried to squash his shyness of being in a somewhat intimate position with Ginny and decided he hadn't won the war to miss such opportunities because of what people could think. He was going to be like everyone else, and damn their opinions, and damn his heart beating furiously in his rib cage.

Turning to Ginny, Harry cocked his head, asking her wordlessly if she was still okay with the idea of being so close to him. Shrugging, she mouthed "and you?" and he nodded eagerly, but he still was fairly sure he'd forgotten how to move the rest of his body.

The decisive moment arrived when Ginny crossed her arms around her stomach and bent over. Without thinking, he sat on the chair, taking Ginny with him and hoping he'd relieve her a little from her misery. She curled unto him in pain, her head in his neck, and he breathed — _one, two, three_ _times_ — adjusting himself at the sensation of Ginny's warm breath on his skin. She was trying to hide her whimpers, and he hated to think it was because she wasn't feeling comfortable enough around him yet. And that, maybe, she'd never be.

His hands were around her, lightly brushing her hips, but in truth Harry wasn't exactly sure what to do with them or where he was allowed to place them. The flowery scent of her hair washed over him, one he came to associate with comfort and familiarity.

With home.

Murmuring to her to breathe with him, he started caressing her hair, lightly brushing one of her ears on his way. It felt weird to do that to someone if he was totally honest with himself. After all, he hadn't ever had the opportunity in his miserable life to do that, even less being the receiver of it. Nevertheless, Harry supposed there was a first time for everything, and if there was to be one, he was glad it was with Ginny.

The wave of pain she'd experienced seemed to have passed quicker this time, and Harry caught Ginny's tired eyes looking at him from his shoulders, her lips just inches from his.

Her dilated pupils looked darker than earlier, her shallow breath smelled like pumpkin juice, and he was fairly sure the time had stopped or that someone had cast a freezing charm on them. For a moment, it felt like there was nobody else in the room, that they were all alone, and Harry realized at that instant how Ginny was able to make him forget to be aware of his surroundings. He'd spent the last few years observing everyone in a room, and he reckoned that when someone tried to kill you every month of June, it was somewhat normal. Despite his past, despite all the auror classes or missions he had where he'd needed to keep an eye on his environment, Ginny was able to screw it all up with a simple smile, because it would always be the only thing catching his attention.

While yawning, which Harry found adorable, Ginny got closer to him. She seemed a hundred miles away in her mind, her gaze staring into space. The gears in his treacherous mind started to spin, and he found himself unable to breathe properly, terrified she'd changed her mind, shout at him it was a bad idea, or that she was disgusted to be close like that to him. Worse, she could play the card of him being like a big brother to her and feeling uncomfortable to share a chair with him, to be in each other's personal space like never before.

His fears evaporated partially when she moved her head under his chin, her hands laying on his stomach, and she closed her eyes. He closed his eyes himself, cherishing the feeling of having her in his arms, and tried to ignore the old witch whistling a Celestina Warbeck melody next to them.

"Wait," he told Ginny, and she removed herself from his chest with urgency. She looked at him with alarm, and moved her leg like she wanted to get up. The thumping of his heart reverberated in his ears, and like his hand had a mind of its own, it gently took her wrist, begging her to stay. Their gazes locked and Harry saw her lips curving. That's all it took for his heart to stop its tango, its beat becoming again a slower, normal, one.

The space between them allowed him enough space to grab his robes, like he'd intended to do at first. Nodding once he had it, Ginny replaced herself on his chest, and he put the robes on her, covering her completely and assuring himself she was comfortable.

They stayed like that for a moment, and then the old witch got up, saluted Harry, and, to his relief, found a new seat in another row. Yet, it was thanks to her that he could be that close to Ginny, and regardless of the huge discomfort she created for a moment, he was glad she meddled on something that wasn't her business at all.

"She was weird," Ginny murmured conspiratorially in his ear.

"Indeed, she was," he agreed, smiling at the playfulness glittering in her bright eyes.

She shifted a bit on his lap, and he confronted the fact his skin was still going to burn when he went to bed tonight. "Reckon she's gone to annoy some other poor unfortunate souls?" she pressed on.

He nodded sonolently. "Pretty sure. You can admire the fact she's got some guts, though."

"Sure, you've got to have some guts to wear a dress like that, I admire it. I should have asked her where she'd bought it," she shrugged, shaking her head .

Harry laughed, and Ginny looked at him like she'd just win a quidditch match. Her smile vanished and she bit her bottom lip.

"Only if you're comfortable, of course, and I'm serious when I say _only_ if you're comfortable, Harry, but would you massage the bottom of my back, please?"

"Yes," he answered surely too quickly, but he didn't dwell on it and tackled his task, happy to have a place to put his hands. Mesmerized by the curves at the bottom of Ginny's back, he applied some pressure, looking at her to make sure he wasn't pressing too hard.

The moments passed, and Ginny dozed on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. In spite of the free seat next to them, neither had made a move. Harry eventually asked her if she was fine or needed anything, maybe water or pumpkin juice, and she shook her head, telling him with mirth in her eyes she could still move and drink alone. He felt a little sheepish, but she then put her arms around his stomach, her fingers brushing his side.

"How can you be so good at all this?" she asked, her words muffled by his T-shirt.

Taken aback, he looked at her like she'd have sprouted a second head. "Er, am I?" he asked, not really believing a word that escaped her mouth, but she maintained what she said, nodding at him.

He put his chin on her head, pathetically wondering for an instant if he was pushing his luck too much. Her words left a bad taste in his mouth, and he couldn't suppress some memories he'd prefer to forget from flooding his mind.

"Oh, erm. Well, I guess that's easy. I mean, it's simple really, when you think about it. I just do the exact opposite the Dursley ever did with me when I was sick," he chuckled, and for once, Ginny didn't laugh with him at his dark humor. She started playing with the buttons at the front of his T-shirt, brushing them with her fingers, and looking like she was a million miles away.

He knew she was one of the few who appreciated his humour, since she was sharing sensibly the same as him. Harry had thought she would only reply to him with a cheeky comment like normally, but he grew panicked and felt a bit awkward when he saw the sadness in her eyes, making them shined. Of course he had to do something stupid to break the moment.

Lowering his head, his cap hiding his eyes from hers, Harry fought the incredible urge to simply stay in this position and avoid her eyes for the next hours. Breathing through his nose to calm his nerves, he cursed himself and remembered how Ron and Hermione never appreciated this kind of joke either.

Ginny nudged him with her chin, attracting his attention. "You know, when I said earlier that I want to be there for you too, it also includes that," she told him with a gentle voice, her eyes searching his.

Swallowing, he contented himself to take her hand, and then he let her words wash over him. He knew that running away or lashing out at her weren't what he wanted to do now, not really, not when it came to _her_. He'd be a liar to say he didn't want her to be there, to understand and know everything about him, but he reckoned that it took a certain amount of time to reverse a well-incrusted behavior.

Nodding, Harry passed his thumb over her knuckles and smiled reassuringly at her, hoping It would be enough to break the awkwardness in the air. She smiled back, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, but Harry guessed it was better than nothing.

She turned her head again and buried her nose deeper in his T-shirt. Harry let out a breath, and without really thinking, started caressing her now loose hair, relishing at that moment her closeness and that special -unique- intimacy he was sharing with her.

He knew he'd never have this with anybody else, that he'd never have been comfortable enough to let someone else sleep on his knees. That the idea of letting someone touch him for more than a couple of seconds without feeling the intense need to back away had seemed to be a wishful dream. Harry hadn't thought he'd enjoy it, even less _crave_ it. It all came to the fact that Ginny was different.

She'd always been different.

It was a bit odd to Harry to acknowledge his desire, his need to be close to her, while he'd tried to avoid any closeness and touch the best he could for years. He'd tried to focus on everything else than that weird monster in his chest roaring every time she was close to him, but after years, after finally winning the chance to live, he'd come to the conclusion he was being stupid to not aknowledge it..

Time passed and Ginny was finally asleep on him, her lips parted, her breathing peaceful. Her hair was tickling Harry's arm and he thought about how _right_ it felt to be close to her, sharing a seat like that. Relishing the absolute perfection of this moment, he recognized how much he'd wanted that closeness, and how he'd wish to have the permission to touch her freely to be customary.

To fill his quotidien.

* * *

"Ginevra Weasley, room 204"

Harry's eyes snapped open, still blurry from the semi-sleep phase he was in a second before.

He'd promised to Ginny that she could sleep peacefully and he'd stay awake to let her know when her name was called. To his complete surprise, Ginny hadn't fought at all this time. She'd simply looked at him with tired eyes and with her small hands, had clutched his shirt tighter, like she couldn't be close enough to him as she let her eyes close. He'd looked at her without pause until he'd felt her grip relax.

Looking around the emergency room, Harry noticed there were even less people in the waiting area. He'd hoped it would have been Ginny's turn soon, not because he was tired of waiting, of course not, but because he wasn't sure how long he could have continued to live with the intense anxiety that had invaded his whole body, making his hand shake more times that he could have dealt with.

Harry's chest was filled with protectiveness to think he was the only person in the room Ginny was trusting enough to let her wall fall and let him take care of her. He had the biggest and more important responsibility in the world, and he didn't want to mess it up. Harry tried to not dwell on the idea that maybe if Dean was with her, she'd be in his arms like that too, and prefered to believe absurdly that it was because they had a connection she never shared with her ex. Contenting himself to take a sniff of her flowery scent, he let his mind wander and wondered if he would ever have the chance to be close like that to her ever again.

His grip on her had been protective all night, and Harry knew he was simply unable to let her go, afraid that if he loosened his arms around her waist, something —anything— would happen to her. Life wasn't always exactly his friend, so he kept her close, anxious to finally hear her name be called on the speaker. Still, it was late, a couple of hours into the night, so he hadn't been able to fight the need to close his eyes, his ears filling with quiet conversations and the low sound of the wireless in the room.

Harry accorded himself only another second to enjoy her closeness and the hotness of her breath against his neck. Not daring to push his luck, he realized that they needed to move quickly or the mediwitch would call another name.

With a deep breath to energize his body, he rubbed one of his eyes while caressing Ginny's hips to wake her up.

"Ginny! Ginny, wake up,'' he murmured in her ear, her hair tickling his nose, giving him the urge to bury his head in her shoulder and letting her scent engulf his senses. He'd make the most beautiful and restful dreams possible if he was allowed to.

But the time was ticking.

"Mmmm," was the only response Ginny offered him and he grinned at her grumpiness.

Harry found himself mesmerized, looking at the creamy skin of her cleavage. His traitorous eyes had fallen automatically on the breast that her shirt made more visible by the way she was snuggled against his chest. Her arms were compressing it slightly in a way it would have been impossible for Harry to ignore. Harry tried to convince himself he hadn't exactly had in mind to ogle her, since he was already looking down at her to wake her up, and he felt his mouth watering. He bit his lip and tried to shake her a little more, not missing the way her breast moved with each of his movements. She just kept gripping his shirt firmlier.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Ginny, they called you, we need to move. Wake up."

"Mmm, they- they called me?" she repeated, her sleepy eyes looking into his.

Harry nodded, taking their bag with his empty hand, while Ginny stood up immediately, unable to suppress a yawn that made Harry's heart melt. Without thinking, he put his hand on her hip to steady her when he saw how her knees seemed weak and stood up himself, never letting her go.

Ginny leaned against him, eyes semi-closed, while they walked to Room 204 and Harry thought about how their relationship had shifted tonight. A barrier, a line that Harry had wanted to cross for years -but hadn't known how- was now in the past. For the first time in his life, he enjoyed every touch a person gave him. And he hoped with all his might that she was feeling like this too.

The room wasn't really far from where they were. Once they entered, they saw a young mediwitch sitting on a stand, preparing different bandages and syringes. The healer arrived by another door in the back of the room, a pad in her hands.

"Ginevra Weasley?"

"Yes," Ginny managed to say with a hoarse voice, sitting on the hospital bed. There was a small chair not too far away from Ginny, and Harry took place on it.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Healer Gladstone."

Harry also nodded at the healer; he saw Ginny's mouth contorting, making him wonder if her pain was returning in full force. He swallowed, a frantic anxiety pulsating in his veins.

The healer looked at Harry from head to toe and clicked her tongue.

"I must say that only family is accepted while we examine the patient. Do you have any family relations with Ms. Weasley?"

"Er," Harry only said, too stunted to think about anything. The idea he'd be separated from Ginny was ludicrous. He didn't know how he could manage to not go insane on the other side of the door, wondering what Ginny had, what would happen next, what they could do, if she needed him like he needed her…

Ginny turned sharply in his direction, making her wavy hair fly around her shoulders, and Harry didn't miss the panicked look in her eyes that begged him to stay with her. And really, he'd feel ready to lift heaven and earth for Ginny. For the first time in his life, he'd have been willing to use the Harry Potter card, but there was something in the healer's eyes that made him believe It wouldn't be useful at all.

_Only family is accepted._

The time pressed. Harry frowned, his mind swirling in every direction, and without really thinking, he took Ginny's hand in his, squeezing it barely, but enough to make Ginny know to let him lead.

"I'm her fiancé," Harry announced, looking directly in the healer's eyes.

The words escaped Harry's lips quicker than he'd have thought and Ginny blinked at him through her dark lashes, her worried face letting place to a small -but wicked- smile gracing her lips.

The healer seemed skeptical, but Harry never stopped looking at her, daring her to make him leave. The healer looked like she wasn't interested in fighting about that at that hour of the night and contented herself to sigh.

She pulled a parchment from a file. "Okay, let's start Mrs. Weasley. So from what I can read on your file here, there's no chance it was an hex," she voiced, to which Ginny shook her head, agreeing. The healer humed to herself, replacing her glasses on her nose. "Let me examine you, please."

She moved in front of Ginny, her wand in hand, and Harry returned to his chair. "Take a deep breath, another one, and a last one please," the healer added, her wand on Ginny's chest, verifying if her lungs were cleared.

Harry didn't know what to do with himself, so his knee started bouncing again, and for a second, he wished Ginny's small hand would calm it like earlier. The healer added some notes to Ginny's file, and returned to her patient. He looked at Ginny, and noticed she had a severe look on her face, making her look particularly strong despite knowing she was exhausted and in pain.

"So, you said that you feel waves of pain in your neck and back, is that it?"

Ginny nodded. "I had a fever earlier too, and I've been sick a couple of times," she said, her voice low.

The healer nodded. "When did it start exactly?"

"This morning, when I woke up."

The healer humed again, her eyes narrowed in reflexion. "I wonder if- Remove one of your shoes."

"I'm sorry?" Ginny asked, blinking at the healer.

"I need to see your toes."

Ginny frowned, but did as she was told. Harry got up from his chair, needing to be closer to her. He crossed his arms when he reached the side of the bed where she was examined, not wanting to bother the healer, and stayed quiet, his focus entirely on Ginny, because it was all he could see.

The healer took Ginny's foot in her hand, and turned it to be able to see her heel. "Do you have gnomes at home?"

"Hum, yes?" Ginny answered, thoroughly lost.

"That's what I thought. Look here," she showed Harry that Ginny's heel was beginning to turn green. Taking Ginny's hand, he squeezed it reassuringly despite the fact he had no bloody idea what she had.

"Tell me, were you bitten by a gnome in the last five days?"

Ginny looked at Harry, a million questions in her eyes, and he tried to convey that he was there at her side and wouldn't leave.

"I-I think I was, yes. I mean, it stung a little, but nothing terrible. Gnomes bit me all my childhood so I didn't make a fuss about it."

The healer nodded, releasing Ginny's foot from her grip. "Yes, many people are bitten each year by gnomes, it's fairly frequent, I agree. The thing is, in this case, the gnome that bit you was infected by what we called Gnomitis. It's easily treatable."

"Thank Merlin," Ginny said, while Harry let out the breath he was holding, feeling lighter from the stress of the night evaporating from his shoulders.

She'd be fine.

"I'll prescribe you a potion you'll need to take when you get home, and you'll need to take it every morning for a week. You might still experience some painful waves for a couple of hours, since the potion needs time to get its full effect. After one dose, you'll already feel better. You can also mix it with some pain potions if you have some at home."

"I have some," Harry mentioned quickly to Ginny, and she smiled at him.

"I have some too, but thank you," she told him, and he somehow felt stupid thinking the Weasleys wouldn't have some pain potions in their cabinet.

"Good. Just wait here, I'll return with the potions in an instant," the healer said, with a smile.

Harry and Ginny smiled back, thanking her, and Ginny put her sock back on her foot.

"Well, I never thought it could be because of a bloody gnome."

Harry laughed, relieved it was just that. "You'll be fine soon. It's practically over," he said. Their eyes locked, and Harry replaced a strand of hair behind Ginny's ear, the same rebel strand that she kept replacing all night.

The healer cleared her throat, making Harry jump and turn from Ginny. She graced them with a fake smile, and gave Ginny the potions. She also gave Harry a little purple bag and explained to them that the gnome was still infected and there were risks he'd infect a bunch of other gnomes on their residence. The bag contained an attractive powder for the gnomes, one they liked to roll in, and it would heal them.

"I guess your fiancé will be with you for the rest of the night?" the healer asked Ginny, who only opened her mouth.

"Of course," Harry answered, not looking at Ginny. He didn't feel ready to see in her eyes that she didn't really need him now. She could call anyone else, or her parents would be at home.

"I'm glad to hear that, because once the pain potion our mediwitch gave you will lose his effect, you'll still be in for a rough night," the healer said to Ginny.

"Brillant," Harry murmured, irritated she was still going to be in pain and he couldn't do anything more to relieve her.

The healer continued. "You'll feel better in a couple of hours though. It would be important to have someone to take care of you until the potion takes full effect. It's possible the fever returns too. I'm counting on you, Mr. Fiancé."

Harry squeezed Ginny's hand again, ignoring completely the healer's jab.

They exited the room with the potions in hand, and Harry caught the old witch's eyes. She nodded at him, her needles still floating in front of her.

"Are you sure I'm not bothering you if- I mean, is it really okay if you stay with me tonight?" Ginny asked him, and he saw the worry of being a burden in her eyes.

"I want to stay, if you'd let me, of course."

Ginny answered him with a smile, and they exited the hospital a couple of minutes later. The air of the night was fresh now, the humidity had fallen, and the streets were definitely less busy than earlier.

"Yours or mine?" Harry asked once they were outside.

"Oh wow, look at you asking the difficult questions," she told him, winking.

He narrowed playfully his eyes at her, and kept to himself how he'd wished to ask that question tonight. Though, he hoped with more charm, of course.


End file.
